Rakish Poems

La Muse Bouche

I say to le "grand fromage".
You and your pastiche attachè.
You with all your rakish, cliche.
You think you're so Debonair.
You with another au pair.
You and one more rendezvous.
You again it's déjà vu.
You and another faux pas.
You always with Au revoir.
I say so much "bon voyage.

Mozart Requiem

Written: February 13, 2023
           ____________________________________________

An anathema for,
pilose nettle burns,
an art form of unstable feathers,
tropes across the ivory cuticles.
Melted mascarpone in a figurine,
pearlescent obsidian,
hooping sapped spirit,
sight of the blue sky.
within her boneless flesh,
the artist grumbles severely,
in a strained, velvety voice,
jumping into the air.

Prima picture goes away,
with feeble equine acclaim,
the nest of the forlorn swan,
embracing an ethereal dawn.
Whimsical soprano,
barely etched in matte black,
diploid remains,
a flawless fleck of fascinating fright.
Rakish Requiem for an,
unrequited magnum opus,
rushing on pinewood stains,
on the cusp of collapse.

As she droops on the ladder,
the impresario draws the
opera curtains closer,
while soothing music,
numbs her toes.
When Requiem strolls,
across the stage to the tune of
Mozart pianissimo,
he manages to pull off,
fulfills a task with accuracy.
2nd place contest winner

Raucous

Raucous

Raucous, rollicking rain
Rambles on hills and plains,
Relishes rumbles in
Raptures of raw laughter,
Raindrops razzle-dazzle,
Rambunctious and rowdy,
Riots of rakish rascals

A Dollup

A dollup
A trollup
A mole and a troll
Free spring it and wing it 
             …reach for the loftiest goals

A habit-ish hobbit
with a knob and grommet
is wearing a rakish sneer

All grasping and gobble
 foam and fobble 

Listen! 
and you can hear

A rabbit…"Gosh nabbitt!"

A frog and a log

…all frolic, bucolic in the wondrous bog

All foggy and noggy
And wet noodle woggy

   …The Farmaduke start to caw

Johnny Rocko the Chicago Salesman

Johnny Rocko was born to be a salesman.
His words are breezy.
He has a devil-may-care attitude.
His ways are playful and jaunty.
He is the pied piper of Chicago.

Other young men rush to buy his wares.
They love his schemes, his ideals and his ideas.
He wines and dines them, and they have a great time.
Some of them have been cut off from their inheritance.
They stick around anyway; he is the sun. They bask next to him.

Johnny Rocko is debonair and delightfully dashing.
He is a rakish playboy-like salesman.
It does not matter what he is selling, people want to buy.
He always has beautiful women rubbing his back.
Most of them are like him, attractive and unrestrained.

Passing Parades

A governess, a guardian of the young, so known and dear as to be called “Mother” and a noblewoman, just barely 12 by age, named Portia, sit talking as the sun sets the stage for a cool, cloudless night.

“Mother, who invented candlelight and the slow, delicate brush of lips?”
“Some rakish boy, pawning his experience for present pleasure, no doubt.”
“Say true, Mother. If you were a man, would you find this common body worthy of love?”
“You show no blemish child, and display a certain bony voluptuousness - I should think.”
The governess begins to comb and braid Portia’s hair for sleep.
“I saw Portincio this morning, in the courtyard.”
“The boy from Padua?”
“He’s a man Mother, and his cast portents a passion so sweet - it shakes my very frame.”
Mother chuckles, “Even hopeless birds sing in cages.”
“I am not hopeless!” Portia writhes angrily, like a snake about to strike but mother calms her.
“Shoo, shoo, now,” Mother purrs, brushing all the more gently, “I meant nothing of it.” After a moment, she continues, “Love is more than coquetry, little one, and it soon passes - like a parade, or a rash. For now, be happy, you are like the chaste stars - unreachable.”

A Rakish Tale

Once the “go to guy”
I linger, ever hopeful
Of a need to fill.
Long for the
Tickle
Of long grass
Crackle
of fallen leaves
Scent
of the garden.
I am older
my handle
slightly splintered
my tines
bent
several missing.
Mocked
by motored newcomers
I wait
knowing 
there are still times
that situations
will call for
The “go to guy”

John G. Lawless
©1/8/2023

Clerihew Collins

William Collins in poetic mode
wrote some verse in an ode
Also rakish  by repute
& melodic balance non did dispute

The Scarecrow

Across the fields he stands,
rakish hat, straw arms
sticking out of an old jacket,
painted face, pantlegs flapping.

The corn is ripening, and
the tassels blow in the wind.
The scarecrow’s pants make
a snapping noise when
they slap against the pole. 

But the crows are oblivious,
not fooled for a minute
by the ersatz man who is
standing there waving his arms,
because crows are smart.
They can identify people by 
their faces, while we cannot 
tell one crow from another.

They are thieves and tricksters,
and there is no way you can
beat them at their own game.
They land in murders, some
landing on the foolish hat,
and caw in loud, raucous laughter
at the folly of the farmer

F L O W E R

Fantastic fabulous frisky faeries flitter forever 
Luxuriously loving lady-like likeable lilies 
Obliterating outgoing outlandish ostentatious orchid
Wonderful whimsical warmhearted warlock wiggles wind 
Effervescent ebullient elegant elves eagerly expedite Echinacea 
Relieved rambunctious radiant roses replenishes rakish Rudbeckia

Missing a Couth

A rakish young fellow from Duluth
Completely hooked on gin and vermouth
Drank like a fish
Out of a dish
Somewhere along the way lost his couth.

May 27, 2021

Adventures of a Rakish Teenage Heel

In the springtime when the carnival comes to town 
On the dizzying tilt-a-whirl and fearsome Ferris wheel, 
The haunting calliope in the musical merry-go-round 
Calls to mind the adventures of a rakish teenage heel. 

On the dizzying tilt-a-whirl and fearsome Ferris wheel, 
She snuggles in, grabs my hand, head on my shoulder
Calls to mind the adventures of a rakish teenage heel 
Back seat of my sedan in the parking lot, feeling bolder. 

She snuggles in, grabs my hand, head on my shoulder
The haunting calliope in the musical merry-go-round 
Back seat of my sedan in the parking lot, feeling bolder 
In the springtime when the carnival comes to town.

In the springtime when the carnival comes to town 
On the dizzying tilt-a-whirl and fearsome Ferris wheel, 
The haunting calliope in the musical merry-go-round 
Calls to mind the adventures of a rakish teenage heel.

SECOND PLACE WINNER
Reworked and Modified Pantoum
on May 9, 2021
for "Say It Again" Poetry Contest
sponsored by William Kekaula

FIRST PLACE WINNER
Submitted to "Your Choice" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Briand Strand
March 12, 2021

Mona Lisa's Paramour

A period of youthful vim ferments
as coruscating golden flecks in eyes 
that mesmerise and tantalise, give rise
to secrets in my breast to stir, foment.
The xanthous tresses that cascade torment. 
My eager and impressionable sighs
that echo every pirouette and pliés,
a fleeting intercession of lament.
A maverick when it comes to amour
and quintessentially a rakish cad.
Unrequited love longstanding rancour,
but finally become your paramour.
An enigmatic smile ever so sad;
your broken heart I gladly give succour.

Carnival Memories

In the springtime when the carnival comes to town 
On the dizzying tilt-a-whirl and fearsome Ferris wheel, 
The haunting calliope in the musical merry-go-round 
Calls to mind the adventures of a rakish teenage heel. 

On the dizzying tilt-a-whirl and fearsome Ferris wheel, 
She snuggles in, grabs my hand, head on my shoulder
Calls to mind the adventures of a rakish teenage heel 
Back seat of my sedan in the parking lot, feeling bolder. 

She snuggles in, grabs my hand, head on my shoulder
The haunting calliope in the musical merry-go-round 
Back seat of my sedan in the parking lot, feeling bolder 
In the springtime when the carnival comes to town.


FIRST PRIZE WINNER
Entered in "All Yours" Contest
Sponsored by Brian Strand
March 17, 2021 

SECOND PLACE WINNER
Reworked and Modified Pantoum
on May 9, 2021
for "Say It Again" Poetry Contest
sponsored by William Kekaula

Rhyme

Rhymes are quite useful for

     recording a moment,
 
          recanting a story,

   reposing with great words,

       reflecting on life and . . . 

refuge from forms random,

             radiant or rakish.

________________________
October 21, 2020


Poetry/Pleiades/Verse/Rhyme
Copyright Protected, ID 10-1296-853-21
All Rights Reserved, 2020, Constance La France

Written for the contest, Pleiades 3
sponsor, Joseph May

First Place

• Short Rakish Poems
• Famous Rakish Poems
• Best Rakish Poems
• Read Rakish Poems
• Long Rakish Poems
• Rakish Quotes